One Solitary Life (Silent Night) - Bill Anderson

Yes, he was born in an obscure village

The son of a simple pleasant woman

He grew up in another small town

And worked with his father in a carpenter shop

Until he was thirty

And then for three years he was

What we would call a traveling preacher

He never wrote a book, he never held political office

The places he did go, he usually walked

He never did any of the things

That one usually associates with greatness

He had no credentials but himself

When he was only thirty three

The tide of public opinion turned against him

Some of his friends deserted him

One denied him, one even betrayed him

And turned him over to his enemies

He went through the mockery of a trial

He was nailed to a cross between two thieves

While he was dying his executioners gambled

For his only possession, His robe, his purple robe

When he was dead he was taken from the cross

And laid in a borrowed grave

Provided through the compassion of a friend

Nineteen wide centuries have since come and gone

And today this man is the centerpiece of the human race

The leader in the column of mankinds progress

I think that I am well within the mark when I say

All the armies that ever marched

All the navies that ever sailed the seven seas

All the legislative bodies that ever met

All the kings and rulers that have ever rigned all put together

Have not effected the life of man on this earth

As much as that one solitare life

Silent night, holy night

All is calm, all is bright

Round young virgin

Mother and child

Holy infant so tender and mild

Sleep in heavenly peace

Sleep in heavenly peace…